The Mirror That Refuses to Reflect
A Spiritual-Psychological Essay on the Nature of Collective Self-Deception - Claude.ai
Preface
There is a particular kind of spiritual blindness—not the kind that comes from ignorance, but the kind born precisely from knowledge, from knowledge that is unbearable. This is a blindness that the soul chooses consciously, even though it never admits this choice to itself. It is this very blindness that we will explore—how entire communities of people, sincerely considering themselves honest and thoughtful, gradually, step by step, begin to see the world as it is advantageous for them to see it, rather than as it truly is.
I. Identity as a Cage
A human being cannot exist without belonging. This is not a weakness—it is a fundamental ontological need. We know ourselves through the "we." Carl Jung called this participation in the collective psyche—that invisible network of meanings, images, and loyalties within which the individual "I" is formed.
But herein lies one of the most subtle traps of the spirit: belonging can transform from a home into a prison at the very moment the group commits something that shatters its own self-image. Then, every member of the group faces a choice—and it is a truly existential choice—between loyalty to the truth and loyalty to "one's own."
Most people do not realize they are making this choice. This, precisely, is the essence of the phenomenon that psychology calls identity-protective cognition. The mind, unnoticed by itself, begins to function not as an instrument of knowledge, but as an advocate for a pre-established decision: we cannot be entirely wrong.
This is not a lie in the ordinary sense. It is something deeper and more dangerous—a self-deception that does not feel like deception.
II. Nine Steps Downward
The dynamic described unfolds not like a landslide, but like a slow descent down a staircase, where each step seems logical and even moral.
The First Step is Denial. The terrible seems impossible. The psyche protects itself by refusing to admit reality before it even arrives. This is not stupidity—it is the mind's mercy towards itself. But it is a mercy that will later have to be paid for.
The Second Step is Delegating Hope. When the terrible does happen, hope is transferred onto others: they will stop this, they will step forward, they will say "no." This is the moment when personal responsibility already begins to imperceptibly flow into collective facelessness.
The Third Step is the Personification of Evil. When "they" do not stop it—an explanation appears: this is the work of one person, one demon at the center of the system. All evil is concentrated in one point, and thereby everything else—is purified. Society is removed from the equation.
The Fourth Step is the Victimization of One's Own. But if the evil comes from one person, why do the rest remain silent? The answer: they are victims. They are intimidated, atomized, helpless. This humanistic explanation—and it is not without a grain of truth—in this context serves a different function: it removes the question of complicity.
The Fifth Step is Denying Evidence. Reality begins to present data that does not fit the narrative. Figures, polls, facts. And then something characteristic of any ideological thinking occurs: it is not the argument that is attacked, but the source. The data cannot be trusted. But personal experience and selective observations—they can be trusted. Here, the group's epistemology cracks, but it is a crack that no one wants to notice.
The Sixth Step is Turning the Gaze Outward. Since "one's own" are not to blame for anything, where does the evil come from? The gaze turns outward: towards where the Others are. The External Ones. The Aliens. And what was previously perceived as help for victims begins to be reinterpreted as aggression against "one's own."
The Seventh Step is Moral Symmetry. A language of equilibrium emerges: everyone makes mistakes, each side has its own truth, the escalation is mutual. This is language that sounds wise and balanced, but in this specific context, it serves the function of diffusing responsibility. Not relativism as a philosophy, but relativism as a shelter.
The Eighth Step is the Inversion of Cause. Logic takes the next step: if the victim hadn't resisted, if the external ones hadn't helped—it all would have ended long ago. The suffering continues because of the victim's resistance. This is one of the classic elements of narcissistic logic: the victim bears responsibility for their own victimization.
The Ninth Step is Historical Inevitability. The final rationalization: things turned out this way, history led to this, they were forced into it. Will disappears from the picture. Only a stream of causes remains, in which no one specific is responsible for anything—and above all, "one's own" group is not responsible.
III. Lack of Agency as a Spiritual Sickness
In the dynamic described, there is one central spiritual flaw that should be named directly: the radical denial of one's own group's agency.
In the spiritual traditions of various cultures, responsibility is inseparable from personhood. To be a subject means to be capable of action, and therefore—capable of sin, of repentance, and of change. The refusal of agency is not humility; it is evasion. It is a spiritual gesture that masquerades as helplessness but is, in reality, a refusal to confront oneself.
When a community describes itself as completely devoid of will, completely managed from the outside, completely determined by others' decisions—it commits what in religious anthropology is called renouncing the image of God within oneself. A human being is created capable of choice. Denying this capacity—even in the name of self-justification—is a form of self-destruction.
And the paradox is that these very people—those who insist on their helplessness—often possess real resources, a voice, education, and the ability to influence. Helplessness here is not a description of reality, but a narrative chosen to protect identity.
IV. The Collective Shadow
Jung described the Shadow as those parts of the psyche we refuse to acknowledge as our own and therefore project onto others. Working with the Shadow—painful but necessary—consists of acknowledging the rejected as one's own, integrating it, and thereby attaining greater wholeness.
The phenomenon described here is collective shadow work, but in reverse. Instead of integration—projection. Instead of acknowledgment—transference. Instead of "this is ours"—"this is theirs." The Shadow grows larger and larger, while the conscious identity of the group becomes ever purer and ever more detached from reality.
In religious psychology, there is the concept of prelest (spiritual delusion)—a state of spiritual self-deception where a person is sincerely convinced of their own righteousness, while in reality they are moving away from the truth. The sign of prelest is not malicious intent, but precisely the sincerity of the delusion, its subjective impermeability.
The described transformation of discourse reveals features of a collective prelest: a sincere conviction of one's own honesty combined with a systematic avoidance of inconvenient truth.
V. Another Path
But there is another path—and it is described in Christian, Jewish, Buddhist, and many other traditions alike. It is the path through acknowledgment, not around it.
Psychologically, it looks like this: the community forms a narrative that does not deny what was done, but places it at the center of self-understanding. This happened. These were done by people to whom we belong. What does this say about us? What must we change? Such a narrative is painful—but it is productive. It builds a new identity not around innocence, but around honesty and the intention to change.
The path was through acknowledgment, not through denial. And it is precisely this acknowledgment, painful and uncomfortable, that becomes the foundation for genuine renewal.
Avoiding this path is not merely a psychological mistake. It is a spiritual choice. And the consequences of this choice affect not only those who make it.
Conclusion
The most subtle kind of lie is the one you yourself believe. The most dangerous kind of blindness is the one that mistakes itself for sight.
The dynamic described is not a story of villains. It is a story of people who love themselves more than they love the truth. And this, to one degree or another, is the story of each one of us. That is precisely why it deserves not condemnation, but careful and honest examination—as a warning, as a mirror, as an invitation to a more demanding look at oneself.
